


our paths intertwined

by hellodeer



Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: Future Fic, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-02
Updated: 2016-01-02
Packaged: 2018-05-11 04:47:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,716
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5614444
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hellodeer/pseuds/hellodeer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They go their separate ways after high school.</p>
            </blockquote>





	our paths intertwined

**Aomine**

They get home after a hard day of practice, Aomine’s body aching in places he’s never even noticed before, and Kagami immediately starts yelling about the mess left in the kitchen and the living room.

“Shut the fuck up,” Aomine snaps. “I spent the whole goddamn day with you, I don’t want you nagging me when I get home.”

“It’s my home too!” Kagami says, never one for backing down. “How is it bad that I want it to be clean?”

Irritation rises in Aomine’s belly like a fire, but Tetsu had asked, and he said he’d try.

“Whatever,” he says instead, going to his room and slamming the door shut.

He calls Tetsu.

“Kagami is so annoying, how did you ever put up with him?” he says, in lieu of a greeting, when Tetsu answers after three rings.

“Well,” Tetsu says. “I had a lot of practice. I had to put up with you first.”

“Oi!”

Tetsu laughs.

“Kagami-kun is never unreasonable,” he says.

“I know,” Aomine sighs. “That’s what’s so damn annoying about him.”

They chat for a few minutes, and after they say goodbye and hang up, Aomine ventures outside his bedroom. The whole place is dark, Kagami’s door closed, no sound coming from the other side.

Aomine turns on the lights and starts cleaning. He calls Satsuki.

“Dai-chan!” she chirps.

“Yo, Satsuki,” he says, grabbing dirty clothes and dirty shoes from the floor. “How’s life?”

She tells him about her classes, and her friends, and her basketball team, where she just made captain.

“Congrats,” he says, moving to the kitchen. He sighs at the pile of dishes in the sink.

“Thank you,” she laughs. “I heard Osaka Evessa will play the Ryukyu Golden Kings next Saturday.”

“Oh yeah,” Aomine says, grinning. “We’re gonna beat their asses to Okinawa and back.”

He talks about his team, proud and happy, about the long practices, even longer speeches their coach likes to make.

The next morning, in the elevator, Kagami rubs the back of his neck and doesn’t look at Aomine when he says “I see you cleaned up. Thanks.”

Aomine sighs. He bumps his shoulder against Kagami’s, a peace offering.

“No problem.”

**Kise & Kuroko**

“Ryouta!” Kinomoto says, a little before Anatomy class starts, his palms touching in front of his face as if in prayer. “We’re short on guys for the goukon, please come this time!”

“Sorry,” Kise smiles, going for sheepish, rubbing the back of his neck. “I can’t tonight.”

“You never can!” Kinomoto yells, pointing an accusing finger at Kise. “What is it that you do that you’re always busy?!”

“You know,” he says, waving a hand dismissively. “Stuff. I’ll be busy later.”

Later, Kise is at Kuroko’s place, lying on the floor in front of the couch, watching some drama on Kuroko’s tiny TV, Kuroko’s sock-clad feet on Kise’s hip.

“By the way, Kise-kun,” Kuroko says from the couch, turning a page on the book he’s reading. “I bought that manga you wanted.”

“Really?” Kise beams. Kuroko grabs a plastic bag that has been sitting innocently at his side all evening, offers it to Kise. “Thanks, Kurokocchi!”

Kuroko hums, a small smile of his face. Kise turns off the TV, and Kuroko allows him to sit with his back against Kuroko’s legs. They read in silence until Kise’s stomach roars.

“Sorry,” he says, grinning. “Let’s eat, Kurokocchi.”

“Okay,” Kuroko sighs. “But you’re leaving after that. I have homework.”

“Ah, the exciting life of a Modern Literature student,” Kise says to the heavens, clutching at his chest.

Kuroko kicks him softly in the ribs.

They eat, but after that Kise doesn’t leave, just lies on the couch reading his manga and texting his friends while Kuroko works.

“You can’t make me leave now, Kurokocchi,” he says, 11PM, after Kuroko is done. “The streets of Fukuoka are dangerous this time of night, you know.”

“And you are but a poor, defenseless Phys Ed student,” Kuroko completes, voice very dry.

“Exactly!” Kise smiles.

So Kuroko sighs, lays out his futon and Kise’s, too. They brush their teeth and turn off the lights, 11:38PM.

“Night, Kurokocchi,” Kise says around a yawn, extending his arm across the narrow space between their futons to touch Kuroko’s hair with careful fingertips.

“Goodnight, Kise-kun,” Kuroko replies.

**Midorima**

They gather their things after three hours of studying and leave the library, the cold air hitting them the minute they step foot out of the building.

“Thank you for today, Midorima-kun,” Nakamoto says, patting his arm and smiling. “You’re always a great help.”

“Yeah, thanks a bunch, Midorima,” Fujiya echoes.

Midorima adjusts his glasses to hide his face from the five pair of eyes staring at him, for something to do with his hands.

“No problem,” he says.

“Do you want to go out to eat? We could buy you dinner to repay you,” Nakamoto says, turning her head to the other people in their study group, who all nod.

“Sorry, I have plans,” Midorima says.

“Maybe next time,” says Souma, and then they leave together, while Midorima walks in the opposite direction.

He turns a corner and spots Takao, bundled up in an enormous coat, leaning against the wall of the Med School building. He sees Midorima, too, waves and yells “Shin-chan!”

“Hello,” Midorima says when he gets close enough. Takao’s face is red from the cold, the silver scarf Midorima knitted him wrapped tightly around his neck. “You should have waited inside.”

“Todai students are way too scary, they would have eaten me alive,” he jokes.

They take the train to Takao’s house, where he cooks dinner while Midorima plays with his sister. She’s a Leo, ranked fifth, and even with the day almost over Midorima gives her her lucky item, a blue pencil.

After dinner, she hugs Midorima and says “Goodnight, Shin-niichan,” and lets Takao put her to bed.

He comes down the stairs a few minutes later, sitting heavily across from Midorima at the kitchen table.

“I swear, sometimes I think she likes you more than she likes me,” he mumbles.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Midorima adjusts his glasses. “You’re her brother.”

Takao smiles softly at him, like Midorima has just said something important and kind. He does that at the strangest moments, leaving Midorima flustered and confused.

“Anyway,” he says, coughs. Takao takes his hand on the table and plays with his fingers, and Midorima lets him.

They stay like that, not saying anything, until Takao’s mom arrives and Midorima goes home.

**Murasakibara & Momoi**

“What’s this, Mukkun?” Satsuki asks, curiously peeking inside the bag Murasakibara has just handed her.

“It’s a Brazilian sweet,” he answers, yawning. “It’s called quindim.”

“Huh?” she goes, taking the container out of the bag. “I thought you learned to make French sweets at Le Cordon Blue.”

Murasakibara tilts his head. It’s funny the way Satsuki says Le Cordon Blue, her tongue wrapping around the syllables sharply where it needs to be soft.

“Ooooh,” she says when she sees the yellow, round sweet. “It’s so fluffy.” she takes a bite, and a look of awe settles across her face. “It’s so good! Did you make this, Mukkun?”

“Hmmmm,” is his answer, meaning _yes, who else?_

Suddenly her eyes turn sharp. Murasakibara can almost _see_ the clogs turning inside her head, calculations and analyses flooding her brain.

He takes a step back.

“I wonder if this would sell in a bakery,” she says, looking at Murasakibara all innocent and sweet.

He will not fall for it.

“Neh, I came here to teach you how to cook,” he complains. “Let’s cook.”

He only has to take two steps to reach the kitchen from the living room in her apartment. The kitchen is tiny, barely fits Satsuki; but they make it work somehow, Murasakibara staying out of the way and giving her instructions, only coming in to show her the easiest, quickest, most efficient methods for doing things.

In the end, her curry tastes good.

“You’ve improved a lot, Satchin,” he nods, not usually one to give praise, and she beams.

He washes the dishes after, then she hands him a beer. A couple of hours later, they’re both flushed and sleepy and giggly, Murasakibara with his head in Satsuki’s lap, long legs dangling over the back of the couch.

“Honestly, they’re all a bunch of morons,” she’s saying, a fire in her eyes he sees so much these days. “They think that just because I’m a woman, I’ll bend over for them. Ha, as if.”

Murasakibara blinks up at her. He got a text from Himuro before he came, _Say hello to Momoi-san for me_ , and he has yet forward the message.

“Kobe University has the best business program in the country, why do they think I’m here? Who do they think is the best student in the class?” she runs her fingers through his hair, her nails scrapping his scalp. “When we open our Brazilian sweets bakery, Mukkun, they’ll see who has a mind for business.”

“When did I agree to a bakery?” he asks, closing his eyes.

“You will,” she says.

**Akashi**

6AM finds Akashi freshly showered, sitting in front of his computer, Skype open like every Monday. He calls his friends on a group video chat.

“Akashi-kun!” Satsuki says cheerfully, Murasakibara waving beside her, crunching down to fit on the screen.

“Yo, Akashi,” Aomine says.

“Akashicchi!” Kise yells. Kuroko covers his ears and pokes Kise with an elbow.

“How’s Harvard, Akashi-kun?” he asks.

“Have you been eating properly?” Midorima asks, frowning.

“What do they even eat in America,” Aomine says. “You don’t eat, like, burgers all the time, do you?”

“Of course he doesn’t, Dai-chan,” Satsuki sighs. Murasakibara yawns.

“Akachin can take care of himself,” he says.

“That’s true,” Akashi says, smiling. “Thank you for your concern, though.”

“What do you miss most about Japan, Akashi-kun?” Kuroko asks, so quiet the mic almost doesn’t pick it up.

Akashi doesn’t really need to answer, but he does anyway.

“You guys,” he says. They’re all quiet for a moment. “And shogi.”

“They don’t play shogi in America?” Aomine asks, eyes wide. “What the fuck.”

They look at him, different variations of exasperated and incredulous from all over Japan and Cambridge, Massachusetts.

“What!” he goes, and in the mockery that follows, Akashi laughs.


End file.
